Assembly
by Rosage
Summary: As a mechanic, Ike is used to eating pizza, not seven course meals. Unfortunately, a dinner with his new mother-in-law has more in store for him than he could have prepared for. Ike/Soren modern AU


It only took four courses for Ike to ruin someone's dress. He didn't know what people expected to happen with such top-heavy glasses, but that explanation didn't fly with his new mother-in-law, who told him in an icy voice exactly howmuch a bottle of that wine cost. She didn't seem so concerned for the maid, who scampered off with a red face when Ike apologized to her. Almedha barked at the poor girl to change into something cleaner before turning to Ike and raising a chillingly familiar eyebrow.

"You said you did…what, exactly?"

"I'm a mechanic," Ike said warily. "I fix cars." The third time she'd asked, he'd thought her memory was just batty. Now that she'd asked a fifth, he figured she hoped the answer would change.

She hadn't seemed to like any of his answers, really. She'd snorted when he said he took community college classes when he could afford them and rolled her eyes when he said high school hadn't worked for him. When he mentioned he'd taken over his father's auto repair shop, he could swear he heard a snarled whisper about _quaint family traditions. _He thought they were pretty rude reactions, but it wasn't as if he hadn't done his fair share of rude things, and besides, her son rubbed most people the wrong way at first, too.

Ike glanced beside him, where Soren sat with locked shoulders. A good back-rubbing session would be in order, Ike could tell. Soren's eyes had glazed over as he looked at—through—his mother, in a way Ike hadn't seen since they first met. Remembering how withdrawn Soren had been back then, Ike wondered if this had been a bad idea. Soren hadn't planned to talk to his mother at all, but after she'd caught wind of his marriage, she'd left several dozen messages on their answer machine demanding when anybody meant to tell her. Taking pity on her, Ike suggested he might like to meet her. Now, he worried it had been a mistake.

The arrival of what seemed like the fourth appetizer wiped Ike's concerns away. His energy went toward trying to decipher the plate in front of him. No matter how much he tilted his head, he couldn't figure out how to turn the thumb-sized cube of fish and what looked like four-leaf clovers piled on top of it into food. The drops of color around the plate made Ike want to play connect-the-dots. He didn't mention it. Almedha hadn't liked his other jokes.

She touched her blood-red fingernails together and rested her chin on them as she watched him with raised eyebrows. As the _distinguished guest, _Ike got the honorof first bite. In other words, he got to squirm while Almedha checked off how often he used the wrong fork and whether or not he'd chewed with his mouth open.

Ike dropped his eyes to his plate, feeling like a history test had been set in front of him. Though he liked figuring out if presidents were good leaders, he could never remember when they'd signed the treaty of whatever. When it came to dinner, he liked food but couldn't remember table manners. What was he doing in this mansion?

A nudge against his food answered. When Ike turned, he saw Soren reach for a fork. Once he'd made sure Ike had grasped its partner, Soren cut the tiny portion in half and scooped the clover-looking-things onto it before taking a slow bite. Ike mirrored him, aware he was cheating on the test in front of his professor. He pictured the glare Almedha must be giving him, but when he looked up, her stare was boring into her son.

"Dear," Almedha said in a voice like syrup, "I hardly think it's polite to eat before the guest."

Without missing a beat, Soren responded, "I hardly think it's polite to watch my guest eat." Almedha bristled and turned to her plate. Ike hid a smile. Score one for Soren. He was winning by a landslide according to the scoreboard Ike pictured over their heads, but then, the referee was biased.

Swiping his fork in the red dot the cook considered a sauce, Ike thought longingly about smoky barbeques dripping with juices. It was a good thing the table was so long, or Almedha would have heard his stomach. The growls weren't lost on Soren, who caught Ike's eye and jerked his head toward the closet holding their things. Soren had packed a loaf of bread and a bag of chips for Ike to dive into after the meal, and had even bought the white Wonderbread without complaining about spending money on edible Styrofoam.

Ike grinned at Soren. Thirty courses of this crap would have been worth it.

Once the plates had been cleared away, Almedha continued interrogating Ike. He'd stopped asking her things back after he'd offended her by suggesting she'd spend her time at a public gym. The one-way flow of questioning made him feel like he was sitting behind a glass window and being told with each unimpressed look that he was sentencing himself to jail.

Hopefully he wouldn't be sleeping behind bars tonight. The Daein-Goldoa manor looked eerily like a medieval castle, so he supposed he'd better prepare himself for the dungeon. Especially if he spilled one more hundred dollar bottle of wine.

By the time Ike had convinced Almedha that no, you didn't need a master's degree to be a mechanic, and yes, his apartment had running water, the next course arrived. Remembering that the meat course was next, Ike started to get excited until the server placed yet another appetizer in front of him.

"Hey," Ike said, "How long until the main course?"

The server's eyelids shot up over his spectacles. He cleared his throat. "That…_is _the 'main course.'"

Ike stared at the finger-sized strip of steak. "_That_?"

Soren shook his head. Ike didn't bother looking at Almedha. "My bad," he muttered. Wonderbread it was.

Once Soren had navigated Ike through the course, tapping his knee once to remind him to wipe his mouth and again to remind him to put his napkin back in his lap, Almedha's interrogation continued.

"Is your father in good health?" she asked. Soren's hand returned to Ike's knee and stayed there.

"My dad's dead," Ike said. "He died when I was eighteen." The words came out robotically, like a GPS was speaking. Back when his father first died, Ike had mimicked Soren's detached tone to try to stop it from hurting, and when it came to some things, it had stuck.

Almedha dropped her gaze. "Oh," she murmured. "My condolences to your mother."

"She's dead, too," Ike said. "She died when I was seven."

Almedha held an empty glass to her mouth, swirling it as if it was full. "I…that's a pity," she said.

The hand on Ike's knee squeezed. Glancing beside him, Ike was surprised to see the glassiness in Soren's eyes had given way to anger. He placed his hand over Soren's. "It's okay," he said, looking at Almedha but not speaking to her. "I don't really remember her anyway."

"Hm." She looked into her glass. Silence fell. Almedha cleared her throat but didn't speak.

"I have a sister," Ike offered. "She's in high school."

"Indeed?" Almedha examined her nails. Apparently a teenage girl wasn't interesting enough to needle him about.

Looking at Almedha made each moment of silence feel like several, so Ike looked at Soren instead. The anger hadn't let go of his eyes, and his lips, which Ike had learned to read during Soren's silent mutterings, were pressed in a thin line. Seeing Soren's rigid back, Ike felt his own muscles clenched. Soren's perfect posture and folded hands had looked out of place next to Ike's family when they flopped together on the couch, but Ike had always taken it to just be one of Soren's quirks. Seeing Almedha's squared shoulders, it occurred to Ike that pieces of Soren he'd taken for granted could be traced to this house. Ike shifted in his chair, thinking about how uncomfortable the wood was and how trussed up the room looked with its lace and chandeliers.

Glancing back at Soren, Ike caught him let one mouthed word slip: _absurd_. Ike relaxed. Soren wasn't any more comfortable in this house than he was. He was probably even less comfortable, sitting at a table he'd already tried to get away from. Ike stroked the hand on his knee and heard Soren exhale.

The drone buzzing in Ike's ears reminded him of realizing he'd zoned out in lecture hall. Ike tore his eyes away from Soren. "What?"

Almedha tapped a finger against her draping sleeve. "I was just saying that it is a shame Soren's father couldn't be here. Ashnard, regrettably, had prior engagements."

"Yes," Soren said. "How negligent of me not to check." Ike had to admire that Soren could keep a straight face. He admittedly wasn't sorry Soren had made that particular 'mistake'_. _ Soren talked even less about his father than his mother, but from what Ike had gathered from rare whispers against his neck, he'd dodged a bullet, and not even figuratively.

"Yes, well, it is even more of a shame that Pelleas could not make it. I'm sure you would have found his piano playing most impressive." Almedha said the word _you _the way some people said _homework_.

"I'm sure," Ike said. He'd heard the piano lessons were Soren's to suffer through until he'd realized he could get out of them by suggesting his half-brother for the role. Almedha, Soren had muttered, had a tendency to forget her blood-related son when Pelleas displayed his _natural talent_—his simpering smiles, Soren had thought, not his tone-deaf playing.

"Pelleas's ballroom dancing," Almedha said, "Is also quite charming. Soren, unfortunately, never acquired a taste for it, no matter how many lovely partners I paired him with." She sighed dramatically. Ike raised an eyebrow. Was she trying to make him jealous? She was barking up the wrong tree. If anything, trying to picture the type of partners Almedha would consider_ lovely _made him sympathetic.

Having gotten no reaction, Almedha continued, "Of course, he was never particularly receptive to any of the well bred daughters I introduced him to. Or the sons, for that matter." She stared pointedly at Ike.

"I don't think your well bredacquaintances considered it much of a loss," Soren said, "Considering the brother and sister you graciously gave me the choice between were caught in the broom closet together the next morning."

Almedha cleared her throat loudly. "Yes, well, in hindsight I should have realized the Serenes family had somewhat of a history."

"I recall my analysis of their father's stock market predictions made him cry."

"It did," Almedha said, and Ike could almost swear he saw a glint of pride in her eyes. "Though he's always been somewhat of a pansy."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Charitably, even," Almedha drawled. The way Ike shot his head back and forth made him feel like he was watching Boyd and Rolf play ping-pong. Just like in those games, he couldn't tell if the two were bonding or if they were about to start screaming at each other.

"Then again," Almedha continued, "As excessive as their environmentalism might have been, they were descended from an ancient strand of Aryan royalty. It was a shame to lose them as guests."

Ike looked back to Soren's side of the court, but the ball had been dropped. Soren didn't seem to think Almedha's lost party guests were worth commenting on.

Almedha apparently interpreted his silence otherwise. "Oh, don't worry, dear," she crooned in a voice that made Ike want to throw up his cube of fish. "I'm not angry. I wouldn't have bragged about my budding little political analyst if I didn't expect him to send a few hippies running for the hills. Of course…" She sighed. "I did expect great things from you at the time. Such high marks from such a prestigious university at such a young age…! The white house would have begged for your assistance if only you'd finished your degree." She sighed again. This time Ike wanted to throw up on her.

Almedha leaned forward and looked pointedly at Soren. Ike followed her gaze. Soren was refusing to meet it, staring instead at the table's centerpiece. His shoulders, formerly locked back, were now hunched up under his ears, and when Ike peered behind the bangs falling over Soren's cheeks, he saw that Soren's eyes were so glassy they might as well have belonged to a doll.

Ike's fingers clenched. Soren wasn'ta doll, even if Almedha thought she could dress him up like one. Back when Soren had realized his mother was planning to claim credit for his accomplishments and use any political clout he earned for her own ambitions, he'd dropped out of the university Almedha had been paying his way through and used money he earned in secret to rent an apartment in a run-down neighborhood. He restarted his schooling from scratch, paying his own way so that he wouldn't owe anything to Almedha. He'd refused to sit on the shelf she wanted to place him on.

Ike's admiration spurred his anger. Almedha was staying quiet for the time being, but that only made it worse. Couldn't she look at Soren now and see what was happening? Ike had never expected anybody besides him to be able to read Soren's moods, but Almedha was his mother. Surely she knew _something _about him.

A cheeseboard killed the tension, or at least distracted them from it. While Ike stuffed a wedge of something that tasted like a men's locker room in his mouth and promptly downed a glass of water to chase it down, Almedha returned to raising her brow at him. That suited him just fine. He could handle her crappy meal and rude questions, but if she targeted Soren again, Ike didn't think he would be able to hold himself back.

xxxxxxx

By the time dessert had been cleared away, a crowd at a football stadium couldn't have covered up Ike's growling stomach. His thoughts turned longingly to the date Soren had scheduled with a loaf of bread as he eyed the room's exits. Almedha, who had drunk enough to make a frat boy pass out, seemed to have forgotten Ike entirely. She started clinging onto her son, who she insisted just _must _go to twelve types of evening entertainment with her.

Before Ike could intervene, Soren ducked away from his mother and said through clenched teeth that unfortunately the plane ride had tired Ike out. The look Almedha gave Ike made it clear she wasn't happy to remember he existed.

After getting their things from the closet, Soren pushed Ike toward their room and all but shoved him in before shutting the door behind them. Within seconds he had thrown his briefcase on the bed and pulled out his laptop. Ike sat beside Soren and watched as he opened a dozen spreadsheets. The auto shop's taxes didn't need to be filed for weeks, but Ike knew Soren was only using the numbers to combat silk and shrill laughter.

Knowing Soren needed time to recharge, Ike stayed quiet, but his stomach missed the memo. Soren's glanced at Ike's abdomen. "The bread's in my backpack," he said. That was all the invitation Ike needed. Within seconds, he was on the floor, rustling through the pack. Soren grunted as Ike flung folders aside. Grabbing the loaf, Ike ignored the twisty-tie and tore the plastic open before cramming a piece of bread down his throat. Half of it still hanging out of his mouth, Ike turned and caught a smile on Soren's face. Ike felt the knots in his muscles unwind.

"I did pack peanut butter, you know," Soren said.

Ike swallowed and grabbed another piece. "Great. I'll eat that next. Jif, not that natural crap, right?"

"Of course," Soren said. "Nothing says love like high-fructose corn syrup."

The rest of Ike's tension melted. "Glad we agree." He climbed back onto the bed and studied Soren's face. Now that the dead look had left his eyes, the skin between them was wrinkling. He shifted them towards Ike and then darted them away.

Soren swallowed. "I don't think I need to ask what you thought of her," he said quietly.

Ike polished off another piece of bread and noted Soren's frown. If he brought his mother up at all, he must be searching for something, but Ike figured Soren didn't really want an analysis of her. Ike wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shrugged. "I had some idea of what to expect. Besides, considering everything I stained and broke, I'd say we're even."

"Hm." Soren cut out a few words from a document and then added them back in. When Ike reached for him, Soren jerked sharply away before giving Ike an apologetic look. Gently, Ike placed a hand on Soren's back.

"Sorry," Ike said. "I shouldn't have pushed you into this."

Finally meeting Ike's gaze, Soren furrowed his brow. He closed his eyes and sighed. "It will never cease to amaze me how often you apologize to me for wronging you."

"You didn't wrong me," Ike said, stroking Soren's hair. "Was that bothering you?"

Soren shook his head, though Ike didn't think it was in response to his question. "I don't think I'll ever figure you out."

"I don't know about that," Ike said. "You have a lifetime to try."

Ike's ring caught in Soren's hair. Despite the tug, the creases in Soren's face finally smoothed as he reached to untangle the band. Once it was free, he moved Ike's hand where he could study it. Ike watched him rotate the ring around his finger. Soren had placed it there in the parking lot behind the auto repair shop while no more than a dozen friends and family watched in folding chairs. After Ike had returned the favor and they'd both spoken a few words, everyone had gone in to eat pizza.

Ike smiled. There really was no better expression of love than corn syrup. Seeing the tiredness lining Soren's face, Ike suggested they go to sleep. The bed had the kind of puffy mattress that lacked support, and Ike found himself shifting back and forth to try to settle into it. He felt a hand prod his shoulder and turned to find Soren facing him. Wrapping an arm around him, Ike gave up on getting comfortable in the mattress. As Soren's foot brushed him, Ike thought nothing could be more like home.

xxxxxxx

Flowery perfumes Ike didn't recognize invaded his nose. Sneezing, he rolled over and buried his face in the pillow next to his to inhale Soren's shampoo, a woody pine scent that in Ike's current state was enough to convince him they were camping. When a search for scratchy hair only left him with his head under a pillow, Ike realized he was alone. He sat up and squinted in the dark, but Soren was nowhere to be found. Stretching, Ike figured Soren had woken up at some ridiculous hour again, though he wondered where Soren would have gone.

Ike's sore throat made him realize how thirsty the peanut butter he'd eaten off his fingers (and Soren's fingers, and Soren's cheek) had left him, so he stumbled, yawning, out into the hall in search of water. By the time Ike had finally found a glass, he was completely lost. The mansion's layout was as confusing as its chef's definition of food, and as Ike blindly wandered dark hallways, he started to grow frustrated.

Just as he was about to give up and call out, he heard voices coming from behind a wall.

"If you seriously think I'm bringing him back here after your deplorable treatment of him…"

Ike stopped in his tracks at the sound of Soren's voice. He'd only heard it like this a few times. One of them had been when Shinon quit after Ike took over the shop, making Ike pull a week's worth of all-nighters to finish the jobs Shinon had dropped.

When Almedha's voice came, Ike almost didn't recognize it. All of the syrup had dropped from it, leaving a harsh and desperate edge. "I didn't say anything about _him_. I'm asking _you _to stay."

Ike froze. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His hand leapt to his ring. The cool metal calmed him. Even though Soren spoke too quietly for Ike to make out his answer, Ike was confident he knew what it was.

"I suppose that man is handsome, but I don't understand why you would want to live with him. A mechanic, of all things!" Almedha said. Ike didn't particularly care about her opinion of him, but he considered whether he should leave. It wasn't fair of him to eavesdrop, he knew, but it wasn't as if he would be able to find his way back to his room without help, and it wasn't exactly his fault that Almedha's voice boomed even through the walls. Besides, Soren had sounded upset. Ike wasn't going to wander back through the dark without him.

Almedha had returned to layering her voice with honey. "And what have you been doing with your life besides keeping his books? Sweetie, that type of work is beneath you. You're squandering your potential. Remember how impressed that governor was with you? You could have done great things. You still can. Just stay here and we'll send that fool packing, and in the morning I'll pull strings with the university president to get you back in the program…"

Ike didn't realize how tightly he'd clenched his fist until he felt his arm shake. Did the word 'married' mean anything to her? If she thought buttering up to Soren would get him to cave in to ambition, she didn't know the first thing about him.

That was true, Ike realized. Chasing Soren away had caused her to miss out. She couldn't appreciate that Soren had been willing to take almost any job no matter how uncomfortable it was. She didn't know how hard he'd worked to pay off his college loans, or that the search for jobs had brought him to the auto shop's door, where Ike's father had hired him to keep the company's books and tutor Ike on the side. She wouldn't have cared that Soren had praised Greil on Ike's work ethic and ability to pick up concepts, or that the compliment had left Ike more flattered than he'd ever been in his life.

Almedha didn't know that when Ike and Soren had started to grow close, Soren had disappeared from his life without a trace, leaving Ike worried and agitated until finally he boarded a bus to Soren's campus. She didn't know how terrified Soren had looked when Ike found him in the library, or how much coaxing it took to get so much as a cell phone number out of him.

Hearing Almedha begin to rant about how _unworthy _Ike was, he gritted his teeth. Because she certainly didn't know that Soren had said that same word on a sleepless night, or that he'd trembled as Ike had held him.

Soren's voice broke Ike out of his memories. "_Don't touch me._"

"You'll let that man touch you, but not your own mother?" Almedha went on about how she _understood _young rebellion and some argument with her own 'stiff' of a father. Ike wasn't paying attention. He was feeling around in the dark for the door. He didn't care if they found him eavesdropping. If Soren had to say _don't touch me _in that tone to anyone, Ike was intervening.

He heard shuffling footsteps. Almedha saying_ why, _and some other things Ike didn't hear. His hand found the doorknob. He grasped it.

Soren's voice stopped him cold. "Because I love him."

Ike fingers fumbled on the knob. His throat felt dryer than Soren's textbooks. Before they'd assembled in the parking lot, Ike had wondered if Soren could say his vows in front of even their tiny audience. It had made it all the more touching when Soren had clasped Ike's hands and kept his voice steady. He'd even smiled at the round of laughter he received for promising to _dutifully manage your company's finances. _

In his stupor, Ike didn't notice the doorknob turning until the door all but smacked him in the nose, leaving him face to face with a startled Soren. Ike opened his mouth, but no words came. He wasn't the type to make excuses after being caught red-handed, but either way he was more concerned with the panic in Soren's eyes. Before he could say anything, Ike felt Soren seize his arm and push him down the hall. He let himself be dragged back to their room.

Once inside, Soren slammed the door and collapsed against it. When Ike heard a shuddering breath, he reached out, but Soren evaded him and fished around for his laptop before slumping on the bed.

Ike stood by the door, feeling the silence burning into him. He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

The laptop turned on, casting light on Soren's face. He gave Ike a sharp stare before deflating. "Not this again," he said. "What are you managing to blame yourself for now?"

Ike rubbed his neck. "I mean, I didn't exactly try not to eavesdrop, and—"

"Ike, there's no part of my life where your involvement is unwanted." Soren's computer sang a dissonant jingle.

Ike dropped his hand from his neck and sat beside Soren. Soren stared at his laptop without touching the keys. Seeing how tired he looked, Ike didn't want to push it, but remembering Soren's panicked eyes and all the times he'd retreated during the trip, Ike had to speak up.

"I know you don't think I should be sorry, but I am. I'm sorry I convinced you to do something that hurt you. And I'm sorry dinner was uncomfortable and that she kept trying to hug you. And I'm just…sorry. That it turned out this way."

"So am I," Soren whispered. He shifted and parted his lips, struggling, Ike knew, for words. "Ike…" He swallowed. "Are you sorry you…"

"What?" Ike resisted the urge to reach for him. He didn't want to startle Soren and interrupt whatever he was getting up the courage to ask.

"Are you sorry you saw this part of me?" The words slipped out so quietly Ike almost didn't hear them over the hum of the laptop. He softened.

"No. Of course not. Did you think I would be?"

"Yes," Soren said. "As much as I was dreading seeing my mother, I was more concerned about you seeing her. Of course, I knew she'd be terrible to you, but even besides that…" His words had grown louder and closer together. He took a deep breath before continuing in a softer voice. "I didn't want you to see. What kind of people my parents are, the place I came from. And you haven't even seen the worst of it. I've already given you enough reasons to leave me, and—"

"And I haven't," Ike said, clasping Soren's hand. "And I'm not going to."

Soren touched Ike's ring. They hadn't bothered with gemstones, and the silver bands were the cheapest it got without using Rolf's suggested candy rings, but Soren stroked it as if it was a diamond.

"I don't care who your parents are," Ike said.

The softest of whispers answered. "I know."

Ike was relieved to hear Soren's breathing steady. He rested his head on Soren's shoulder. "You know," Ike said, "I know this wasn't pleasant, but if you ever have any reason to come back, I'll come with you. She's your family, despite everything, so I'd understand—"

"That woman isn't my family."

"Soren…"

"Ike. It's fine."

Ike's eyes fell on Soren's laptop. His screensaver was piling photos on top of each other. A picture of Mist pushing Boyd into a snow bank covered up one of Ike holding Rolf on his shoulders to put a star on a tree. A photo fell on top of them that made Ike's chest ache. His father was sitting with Soren at a table Titania had built. It was on its last legs at the time, and had ruined a cake Mist made when it collapsed later that year, but Ike's attention wasn't on the table. It was on his father's hand, stretching over the gap like he was about to lay it on Soren's shoulder.

More pictures covered it up. Ike closed his eyes so that he could imprint it in his mind.

"You're right," he said when he opened them. "It's fine."


End file.
